Up To My Neck in You
by Taisi
Summary: Dean's raising Sam and Adam on his own, and Sam's convinced he needs saving, or he'll work himself into the ground. (Destiel)
1. Chapter 1

Dean was passed out on the couch when Sam got up, as if he'd been too tired to continue his journey down the hall to his bedroom; and the sight of him, so deeply asleep with his boots and apron still on, one arm dangling off the side, made Sam absolutely miserable. Dean worked too damn hard.

He bit his lip, glanced at the clock, and sighed. Leaning over the back of the couch, he touched Dean's arm. "Dean- hey, bro, it's a little after seven." His brother came out of it slowly, eyes peeling open over exhausted green, and Sam smiled warmly at him. "Mornin' lazybones. Want me to make you coffee?"

"Wh... Yeah, that'd be..." His older brother sat up, looking ruffled and confused the way he always did after what was probably only three+ hours of sleep. "That'd be awesome, Sammy. Adam up yet?"

Sam accepted the hair-ruffle Dean gave him dutifully, and winced for his brother's sake at the sound his back made when he stretched. "'Course he isn't."

"Little shit," Dean said fondly, and went to get him. Sam set up three bowls and dumped cereal in each, pouring two mugs of coffee and one glass of orange juice, arranging them all in front of the appropriate seats at the kitchen island. When Dean came back in with a dozing Adam in one arm, he grinned gratefully.

It wasn't much, but any little thing Sam could do to help out, he would. "Come on, Adam," he said, handing his little brother a spoon when Dean plopped him in his seat. "You gotta eat and get dressed, man."

Adam stuck his tongue out, but did as he was told, sneaking glances at Dean, and Sam bit the inside of his lip, thinking, _Okay, if Adam's noticed, then Dean really does look as bad as I thought. _

"Hey, Dean, what time did you get off last night?" Sam asked casually, nodding to his apron, and Dean groaned theatrically.

"Ugh, Sammy, it was _bad. _The new chick flaked out- on her _third day. _Ellen was pi- mad as he-ck." Sam's lips quirked and Adam full out grinned. "Shut up. Anyway, Jo had a test today, so I covered it."

Sam couldn't help how disapproving his _"Dean," _came out, and from the looks of it, Dean was expecting it anyway, and had a counter prepared. "School's important," he said, "s'why I get on your asses about studying as much as I do."

"You said 'asses'," Adam piped up helpfully, and Sam smiled when Dean grabbed him and ruffled his hair all to shit, but didn't let it go at that.

"You're important, too, Dean," he said softly, and didn't miss the way his big brother's expression stuttered for a minute, or how his tired eyes cut away almost at once.

He dropped Sam off first, as usual, and Sam didn't care how it made him look in front of his peers, he always turned to lean in and say some variation of, "Adam, have fun at school, and be safe at work, Dean." Because life had taught the three of them a cruel lesson very early on, and they each knew in their bones that good things only happened to other people, and the ones you loved were the ones that god took first.

So, following in that pattern, Sam was convinced that Dean was going to work himself into the ground- and if he asked, if he asked _anyone, _Bobby, Benny or Garth at the auto shop, Ellen, Jo or Ash at the Roadhouse, they would _help him, _because he was twenty-one years old and charming and wonderful and raising two little brothers and working two jobs and taking classes online and they could see how tired he was, they _had _to see that-

But Dean would never ask, because it had been just him for so long he'd probably forgotten how to. So he would work and work, and Sam would leave for college, and he'd work and work, and Adam would leave too- and then Dean would have two jobs and two empty bedrooms, and nothing left to work for, and Sam hated the thought of someone like Dean, who deserved _so much more _than the life he had, floundering in the world like he didn't have a place in it, too tired and wasted to find someone new to live for.

So when Adam came home with A+ papers, and Dean with circles like bruises under his eyes, Sam smiled at one and soothed the other and prayed every night for somebody to come along and save his brother from himself.

_Anybody. Please, God._

_Just- please._


	2. Chapter 2

_"Can u get a ride home with andy?"_

was the text Sam got at lunch. He blinked at his phone, a little nonplussed, and then up at the Andy in question- still at the register, charming his way to a free meal. When he picked up his tray he was smiling, victorious, and flashed a thumbs up Sam's way.

Sam shook his head, not unamused, and sent back, _"His van's a deathtrap but yea he'd give me a lift. Why?"_

It was a few minutes before he got the reply; he had to abandon his fork to dig his phone back out while Andy was halfway through explaining to Ava why it was not wrong to flirt shamelessly with middle-aged cafeteria workers in exchange for a free bite now and then, and slid it open.

_"had to pick adam up early today, little dudes not feeling too hot. so ur good?"_

"Andy," Sam asked without looking up from his phone, already thumbing a response, "can I get a ride home?"

"Besides, twenty years ago she would totally have been my type, so it's not like- yeah no problem Sam- I'm _using_ her, I'm just making up for lost time or something. So it's all good!"

"Oh yeah you're so right- that's sarcasm b.t. dubs. How are you so popular with everybody when deep down you're such a_ nerd?"_

"It's all part of the Gallagher charm. You should meet my brother- now that guy's a real piece of work."

_"Yeah I'm good."_

_"ok later bitch"_

_"Later jerk."_

"Well family usually does kind of suck," Ava was reasoning when Sam returned to his salad with a grin on his face. "At least, the family that leaves does- the ones who stick around are okay in my book."

"Hear hear," Andy said, lifting his Pepsi in a solemn toast. Sam felt their eyes on him, and flicked a laughing glance at them through his bangs; gave in at Ava's insistent nudge, and lifted his bottle as well.

"You have no idea."

* * *

Their apartment was a nice one, right on the cusp of downtown Sioux Falls. It was in a better neighborhood than their old place, closer to school, and Dean could afford it, sort of; besides, they'd needed the third bedroom after Adam came to live with them.

Andy whistled when they pulled up to the curb, leaning his head out the window to look up the stretching height of the apartment tower. "Nice digs," he said, obviously impressed, and Sam chuckled, unbelting and popping open the door. "You know, you've been to my place, but I've never been to yours." If Andy wasn't an eighteen year old Sam would have been tempted to call that a _pout_. "What gives, man?"

"I didn't know you wanted to," Sam said, a little thrown. "I'll ask Dean, he wouldn't mind. He'd probably pay you to come over, actually, he thinks I'm a hermit. Just not today- Adam's sick."

"Dean sounds rad as fuck the way you talk about him," Andy grinned. "Alright, dude, see you Monday. Tell the little guy I said feel better."

Sam waved as he drove off, and let himself into the apartment complex; heading for the elevator and jogging the last few steps when an old man held the door for him. He got off on the fourth floor, padded down the hall to 4C, and when he slid his key in the lock and turned, he opened the door with infinite care.

The apartment looked dim but inviting, and something about the smell of dinner cooking in the kitchen, and the soft sounds from the tv in the family room made Sam feel warm. He toed off his shoes and dropped his bag by the door, just to hear Dean complain about it later, and found his brothers on the couch.

Adam was a wheezing, blanket-swaddled lump, fast asleep in his favorite pajamas and tucked up against a similarly exhausted Dean, whose eyelids were drooping a little lower with each unseeing blink at what looked like a rerun of _Law & Order._ Sam pulled a blanket off the back of the chair and covered him with it, hands lingering on his arms because in a small, much younger corner of his brain he was scared Dean was going to waste away to _nothing _and then where would Sam be? For all the responsibility Dean had shouldered when he was fifteen, and bore like it was an inheritance, Sam was two years older than that now and the thought of him trying to do what Dean had somehow managed to was almost nauseating.

_I can't be what you are, Dean. You have to take care of yourself, what will we do if you're gone?_

Dean's laptop lay discarded on the floor, still open to what looked like a grading scale, and Sam closed it and slid it away; picked up the bedraggled stuffed moose from where it had fallen and tucked it back under Adam's arm. And when Dean's eyes finally closed and his head tipped forward a little, Sam let out a breath he'd been holding.

"Finally," the middle son muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. "You're so freaking stubborn."

_Just gotta make sure doesn't wake up for at least- hopefully- eight hours. I can do that._

The pot on the stove proved to be soup left to simmer, and Sam turned the burner off. He wandered around shutting off lights, and finally paused in front of the T.V., turning it down all the way slowly before he turned it off, so the abrupt cancellation of noise didn't startle anyone awake. Then he stepped over a cluster of Adam's toys to snag one of his several dog-eared paperbacks off the coffee table.

When Sam lifted Dean's arm and settled himself against Dean's free side, his brother blinked awake just long enough to drape his arm around Sam's shoulders and haul him closer, the way Sam had half-guessed he would. Dean wasn't much of a cuddler, but he made exceptions now and then. Sam knew the ethical codes of brotherhood, though, and as much as he wanted to take a selfie of the three of them, he wouldn't. He cracked his book open instead, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the thought of what the guys at school would say about how he was spending his Friday night.

After about an hour, just when he thought he might fall asleep himself, Dean's phone beeped from the table. Sam scowled at it.

_Could be important,_ he thought sourly, even though the three of them were all accounted for. He stretched his arm as far as it would go and leaned out slowly, trying not to jostle anyone. Once he had it, he resettled quickly, and flipped the outdated phone open to see who the text was from.

There were a few from Bobby this morning, a couple from Ellen; one from Benny, a few hours ago, all of them reading something like_ "yeah"_ and_ "no problem,"_ and before that what looked like a recipe for soup from Garth; Sam smiled fondly at the glimpse into his brother's not-very-social circle, and scrolled down to the new message.

It was a number he didn't recognize, and the message said, _"Of course not. I hope he feels well soon."_

Sam wasn't _quite _nosy enough to pan through the rest of the conversation, but-

The phone beeped again, and Sam jumped in surprise, glancing guiltily over at Dean, who slept on unaware. Slowly, uncovering the phone from where he'd curled both hands around it on reflex, he read the new message.

_"Goodnight, Dean." _


	3. Chapter 3

Sam woke up to find himself lying flat on the couch with the blanket pulled up to his shoulders, warm but not as warm as he had been. Sliding out his arm experimentally and meeting no resistance proved him to be alone, and he sat up groggily, looking around for a clock.

"Hey stretch," Dean grinned from the kitchen island, laptop open in front of him, a pile of papers off to one side. "It's almost nine. You sleep like the dead, you know that?"

"Ha ha," Sam grumbled, running a hand through his hair and clambering upright. "You should've woken me up you jerk." He retrieved his fallen book and tossed it back onto the coffee table, and then went to sit in the stool by Dean's, folding one leg on the seat and kicking the other lightly against the counter. "Homework?"

"Yeah. Professor's been on my ass about this essay, this is the second time I've had to rewrite it." He was scowling as he said it, but his green eyes were lit with the challenge. Even if no one gave him a second thought because he was a dropout with a G.E.D. and a minimum wage job, Sam's big brother was the smartest guy Sam knew. He leaned over to watch as Dean fixed some syntax here and there, and when he was offered one of the printed copies, strewn with high-lighted and crossed out areas, and confused scribbling in the margins, along with a "Take a look at this for me," he grinned and grabbed a pen.

They worked together for a couple hours, Sam asking questions now and then and Dean patiently explaining the material, when Adam called down the hall for _Deaaaannn, _and the mechanic hit Save and closed his laptop without further ado. He ruffled Sam's hair on his way past him and there was a smile in his "Thanks for helpin' out, Sammy," that Sam could hear even as Dean disappeared down the hall.

He had no clue how Dean managed to get any schoolwork done, ever. He shuffled the papers into a semi-neat pile and followed Dean to Adam's room, joining him when he sat on Adam's bed.

"Feelin' okay, kiddo?"

"Nnno," came the miserable reply. "My head hurts."

"Can't give you any more medicine for awhile," Dean told him, pushing the hair off his forehead with a broad hand. "Your fever's gone down though. You should feel better tomorrow. Think you can hold out, man?"

Adam blinked up at him and then at Sam, and nodded.

"'Course he can," Sam scolded Dean, shoving his shoulder. "He's our little brother, after all."

Adam smiled widely at the backhanded praise, and Dean started humming a song that reminded Sam of a woman he couldn't remember, and even though it was almost midnight, and Sam still hadn't eaten, and that nap had left him wide-awake, he leaned against the headboard next to his little brother and closed his eyes, and stayed that way for a long time.

* * *

Sam wandered into the kitchen Saturday morning to find Dean making omelets. He blinked, and felt a slow, wonderful leap of warmth.

"Day off?" he asked hopefully.

"Yup. Both Ellen _and _Bobby said- grab a plate- that if I show my face before Monday they'll kick my ass." He slid the omelet onto the plate and ruffled Sam's already pretty ruffled mane of hair. "You look ridiculous, Sammy."

Sam sat at the island and beamed at him. "You have the whole weekend off! You can finally catch up on your sleep!"

Dean gave him the Look, the _You-shouldn't-be-worrying-about-that-Sammy-what-ha ve-I-told-you _Look,and without missing a beat Sam gave him his own patented _If-you-don't-want-me-to-worry-you-should-take-bett er-care-of-yourself _Look in return.

Stalemate.

Dean huffed and turned back to the stove, and Sam tucked into his breakfast smugly. After a few minutes, his eyes fell on Dean's phone.

"Oh hey- you got a couple messages last night from somebody," he said. "I thought they mighta been from one of your bosses so I checked them. My bad, man."

"Nah, good lookin' out, Sam. It was- " Sam saw him hesitate; saw the spatula hover over the skillet and the uncertain shrug in his shoulders. Then "- a guy I met at the Roadhouse. A friend."

Sam stared at him, and waited for a little illumination, but then Adam came tottering in and clambered onto the stool next to Sam's, and Dean slid some scrambled eggs and sausage onto a Star Wars plate and put it in front of him, brushing his mop of hair out of his face with a "'morning, little man."

But Sam was relentless.

"When did you meet him?"

"Meet who?" Adam piped up.

"Dean's friend."

"Is it Benny?"

"No, a _new _friend."

Adam's mouth formed a little 'o' of surprise, and he crammed in a forkful of eggs and stared at Dean as expectantly as Sam. Dean scowled at them both.

"Nosy little brats."

"Don't be a jerk, you know all _my _friends," Sam teased him. "Come on, what's he like? What's his name, at least."

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, and the scowl faded into something endearing. "Cas."

* * *

They spent the better part of Saturday on the couch in front of the T.V. Pretty lame as far as Saturdays go, but Sam didn't have anywhere to be until later, when he and a bunch of other kids were gonna go to the movies. It wasn't his usual crowd, and Andy and Ava had both opted out immediately when he told them Meg and Ruby were going, and normally that would've been enough for him to bail, too, but-

_Jess _was gonna be there. He could put up with everybody else for her.

Dean had gotten up at some point to start lunch, and Sam only realized he was on the phone when the next movie that came on had a long, quiet intro. He turned to fold his arms on the back of the couch and rest his chin on them, blatantly watching.

"No, it's not a T.V. dinner," Dean snapped laughingly, phone cradled between his cheek and his shoulder as he chopped carrots into the long wedges Adam liked. "I'm telling you I can cook. Yes, for real. _Yes, _like from scratch. Tonight? Lasagna. Store-bought my ass, I don't do that frozen shit unless I'm destitute."

And then Dean put the knife down to reach up and hold the phone properly. He turned around, facing Sam now, and didn't look surprised to find his little brother watching him.

"You wanna come over for dinner?"

Sam perked up, waved to get his attention, and then shot him a double thumbs up. Dean rolled his eyes, but like hell was Sam going to let him let _this _opportunity slip by.

"Yeah- no, that'd totally be- Uh, six. Six-ish? Yeah, sure, I'll text you my address in a bit. Okay, I'll let you go then. Later."

He pulled his phone away and just stared at it in his hand.

"What did I just do?"

"You invited a friend over for dinner!" Sam bounced once, pleased. "Hey, can I stay for dinner too? Would that be cool, I wouldn't be like in the way or anything would I?"

"What? But you're going to the movies tonight with that girl you have the hots for- Jess, right?"

Sam pulled his phone out of his back pocket and waved it. "I could text her, no big deal. So is it okay?"

Dean still looked a little puzzled as to why Sam would want to blow off his friends to hang out with his brother, but shrugged a shoulder the way Sam knew he would. "Of course it's okay, Sammy, this is your house too."

Sam grinned, and turned around to sit comfortably, tucking his legs up under him and texting Jess.

_"Can't make the movies tonight. Dean's got a friend coming over and I gotta meet him. Sorry! Will you let the others know?"_

_"Hey, no biggie. I'll text Meg. I was only going if you were. (: So what's the 411 on this friend of his, hmmm?"_

Sam thumbs a reply, grinning again, for a different reason this time; and it feels different on his face. He really, _really _likes this girl.

* * *

Adam's feeling a lot better, and he and Sam are playing Left 4 Dead in the living room when there's a knock on the door. Sam's character gets downed almost immediately because Sam glances toward the foyer, and watches Dean wipe his hands on his jeans nervously as he heads down the hall toward the door. Sam can't see from his angle, and he doesn't want to get up and oggle the man, that would be rude and he's determined to make an A+ impression.

So while Francis screams for help on the screen and Adam tugs on his shirt and tells him to hurry up and get to the Safe House so they can end the level, Sam's sort of straining to hear as the door swings open, and holds his breath when a low, kind voice murmurs, "Hello, Dean."


End file.
